The Future
by robotmonarchy
Summary: When Fry woke up this morning, he was not prepared to have his robot boyfriend tell him his mortality is annoying. (cross-posted from AO3)


Fry exhales softly, eyes squinted shut in response to a beam of sunlight making an invasion on his face. That was typically the only alarm clock he responded too, even the one they have in the bedside table barely merits their attention. Fry thinks it happens because even though he's in the future, clock alarms at five am still sound exactly the same. One thousand years ago he'd be quicker to press 'Snooze' to sleep instead of getting up to get dressed. Today, the alarm clock is unplugged, left alone as decoration, at most. Luckily, it's their day off, and even though the Professor will call them in anyway, he usually waits an hour or two before making Leela send them in. Slave drivers really, it's one thing to do nothing at home, but to get up just to do nothing over there? That's a whole new kind of redundant and Fry could never make sense of it.

To be fair, there are not many tasks Fry would usually see himself doing right now, other than the most important task of laying around in his underwear and proudly being a bum while watching TV and drinking six packs of Slurm.

…Actually, he would much rather be doing that very much. Maybe he should call in sick soon. No, that wouldn't work, Fry has gone to work with a lot worse things than the flu. Maybe he could say he was busy raising his pet monkey or something. But then first, he would need to get a monkey. No. He's going to have to brain storm this one out. The bed was so warm, so relaxing, not like his adventures with Planet Express. He'd never give them up for the world, not even two, maybe three and three quarters, but even that's pushing it. It's only that Fry can risk the chance of another head concussion or panic attack in a life or death mission so much. Those moments are usually forgotten, until there's a dull pain down the lower part of Fry's back, and due to his job he has no way of knowing how much of that pain is from missions or age. He's not getting any younger, or so Leela would say. Fry still likes to think otherwise. If Nibbler can live forever then as so hell can he! So what if he's on the dark side of thirty? Er, physically. Boy, is he glad that time was fake, otherwise his body would be dustier than dust with all the time traveling and universe jumping he's been through.

In the middle of that thought, Fry began sensing coldness on his cheek. Fry's face squints in response to a nudge on his face, and then another. The source of this disturbance is a metal prong that pulls Fry back to earth, and back to the face of the robot previously seen "sleeping" soundly in his arms.

"Stop thinking so much, meatbag. You're loud and terrible at it." Bender's head was on Fry's arm, looking as discontent as possible a robot is capable. Fry angles his head towards Bender, contemplating when did Bender become a human mind reader? Could he listen to his thoughts now? Could he always do that? Some of it would make sense, how else would Bender know Fry's pin number to his bank accounts. Fry tries shifting his weight so that he could get up and make sense of this, but he remembers why exactly he couldn't do that. Sleeping always starts off with Fry shouldering near Bender, sometimes the heat Bender's body radiated from being overworked was enough to lull Fry to sleep. The robot liked pretending to be really annoyed, until at some point in the night Fry learns to be accustomed to the sensation of metal arms coiling over his waist till the morning. This was one of the few and only ways it could work if Bender ever wanted to be on the receiving end of late night spooning. Bender could only rest his head on Fry, since his head is nowhere near as heavy as the rest of Bender's body, a body that can weigh as high as a few tons depending on how much loot he's stashed in there. It was nothing other than a miracle that their bed wasn't destroyed. Seriously, how much can he actually fit in there? Even Fry could fit there. Fry shakes his head. He didn't like remembering how cramp it was in there.

"Hold _on._ " Fry furrowed his eyebrows, having now processed what Bender said. He turns to look at the robot and in mock pride he says, "I think plenty."  
"Not about anything important!" Bender retorts.  
"Like what?" Fry smiles, already sensing the answer.

"Like ME!" Bender points his digit towards himself, digital eyes closed in indignation.  
"You think enough about yourself for the both of us," Fry mutters, casually turning away to stare at the wall in his direction and smirking.

"I heard that." Bender elbows the side of Fry's ribs. That'll teach him. For one thing, it's absolutely true, and it's not fair at all.

"Ow!" Fry tried dodging each hardly pressed poke, but in the clutches of metal limbs it's futile. "Geez Bender, quit it, you know I bruise easily!"

Bender retracts his arms from Fry's body and chuckles a sound that only be described as evil. Fry was at least witted enough to sense that memories laced each laugh,  
"I know," Bender replied wistfully.

"Want to know what I'm thinking now?" Fry pauses to glare at the bot who looks at him questioningly. "You're a jerk." Bender raised a metal hand dismissing him, "So? Everyone loves jerks!"

"Really?" was Fry's dry response.

"Yeah! We've talked about this!" Then, Bender grasped Fry's chin and pulls it to face him, a silent demand for attention. "Did you always have crows-feet?"

Fry blinked, _"What?_ "

"Oh nothing," Bender dismissed, keeping Fry's face in place.

"What is it with you this morning?" Fry questions, noting that Bender is _particularly_ needy today. Not that he minds frankly, Fry can still remember a time when threats came more easily than affection. As he felt Bender's hand stroke his chin gently, it was needless to say, he's grateful for the transition. Although threats are still likely to happen when there's only one bottle of booze left. But that was understandable. Those are war times, after all.

"I might, have maybe, thought of something." The robot says, almost absent mindedly when his eyes seemed to scan Fry's face

"Which is...?" Fry questioned before Bender began squishing his cheeks with one hand. "Hwey, what are you doin'?" Fry sounded out, his face slightly pained because a robot was meading his face. "I'm just checking to see if your face is still squishy." Bender said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Bendwer, stohp!"

The robot's eyes went upward, and the motions stopped. "Fine!"

"Phew." Fry exhaled, raising his own hand to console sore cheeks. "Alright, spit it out now, this problem almost costed my face." Fry said, and Bender smirked, and lifted a finger to say something, but Fry interrupted him, "And don't! …Say anything about my face not costing much." He warned. Bender glared.

A few moments passed, and Fry was beginning to feel sleepy again when,  
"You're a meatbag, meatbag." Bender said finally. His eyes cast downwards before the bot could help it. Tentatively, Fry ungrasps Bender's hand from face, staring at Bender with open concern.

"And...?" Fry cautioned, there's no telling how Bender can react when he suddenly gets emotional. It could be sulking, the silent treatment, or it could very well be something in their apartment getting broken. Truthfully, Fry couldn't tell which one he'd prefer to deal with better. Bender sulking was pitiful to watch, and for whatever reason Bender enjoyed being as theatrical as possible about it. As for the silent treatment...Well, that can have its mixed blessings. But Fry thinks many people underestimate how fun it is to talk to Bender, even when he's (always) feeling self-absorbed. There's very few people you'll meet that's willing to have a conversation with you entirely about the ins and outs of the pimping business. Besides, they've known each other for a while, Fry thought not hearing Bender speak over a long period of time felt as unfamiliar as the day he first got here. (Or depending on the situation, whenever he got home _back._ ) Finally, many things are broken and dirty in their apartment, Leela will be the first to tell it, no need to add to that if it wasn't going to happen over anything fun.

Bender looked back at him, incredulous, "Haven't you seen the food Zoidberg eats sometimes? Meat _rots,_ " Bender's mouth plate digitized a silent _Ah-Ha!_ When Bender's other hand went to Fry's head and caught a white hair. "You see? _Decays._ " His hand raised the white hair to Fry's eyesight demonstrating his evidence.

"Oh? _That_?" Fry laughs, "Bender, come on, that's just one gray hair! That happens to everybody."

"Not everybody." Bender stared pointedly.

"Oh." Fry stared dumbly back, after realizing that robots, typically, do not, have hair, nor do they _decay_ quickly as Bender so nicely put it. "Uh..." Fry stared on at the now crossed arm bot in question.

Is he in trouble now?

For aging?

How do you tell a violent and dramatic robot to just...deal with it? Not even Fry could deal with it. Or the Professor, which is why the old man isn't in a simulant retirement home as they speak.

"Oh Bender, please just chill out okay?" Fry pleaded, "I still got a _lot_ of life in me." Fry wiggled his eyebrows at him, hoping that he made his suggestive statement clear. Or distract Bender in a fun way, at least.

"But not for long!" Bender jolted upright in their bed, kicking off his side of the blanket in the process.

Fry sighed and chose not to mimic Bender's erect position and instead bury his face into his pillow. "Bender what do ya want me to say?" He muffled, catching Bender's attention. "I'm a human, we die, you robots do too...eventually." Fry added as an afterthought. Cloud systems make robot lifespans too big a number for Fry to comprehend clearly.

"Yeah, but what am I supposed to do after you die?" Bender said, and even though Fry couldn't see him when his face was full of pillow, he can sense the desperate arm movements that the bot was probably making while talking.

"You got any smart ideas when I'm ruling the planet with a robot army and I don't even have my human as a pet slave to accompany me?" Bender prodded again, annoyed that the back of Fry's head wasn't much to look at. But then again, he could argue that neither was the front of Fry's head either.

"Is that how you picture it?" Fry muffled more. When Fry woke up this morning, he was not prepared to have his robot boyfriend tell him his mortality is annoying. "Oh, I don't know," Fry raised himself from his pillow at last, now sitting equally upright next to said robot boyfriend. "Keep a photograph?" Fry offered, running his hand through his messy hair. He still looked terribly tired, which only incensed Bender more.

"That's not enough, and you know it, dullhorn." Bender said finally, turning his head away from Fry to hide another sullen expression.

Fry frowned, pondering while watching his friend pretend he isn't moping.

"Look buddy, for all we know I could die tomorrow!"

Bender made a sharp and angry turn to Fry. He grasped the front of Fry's white t-shirt and threatened,  
"If you do, I'll _kill you_!"

Fry immediately raised his arms up in surrender. He gulped as he stared down at two irate, squared eyes, "Okay, okay!" One day, perhaps, Fry will not be intimidated by the equivalent of a trashcan's angry gaze, today is not any one of those days. "But, uh, you see? Don't you feel better now that I promised not to die tomorrow?" He added quickly, lowering his arms to grasp Bender's hand, an effort to placate them away from the front of his wrinkled shirt.

Bender eyes narrowed, as if examining any possible deception in Fry's promise. Fry liked to imagine that maybe right now his robot is going over the numbers, calculating the chances of his survival tomorrow using a variety of factors, like 'Chocking over Slurm," "Getting Decapitated by Zoidberg's Claws," or "being crushed by Leela's boot" over and over, until Bender finds a number he's satisfied with.

Finally, Bender relents, makes an acknowledging grunt and relaxes his hold on Fry, "Fine. But if I find out you die, and don't you think you can _cheat_ by _falling into a coma_ because-"

"-Bender." Fry interrupts, drawing Bender's attention back to his affectionate gaze. "It's gonna be alright, pal." He says simply.

"You promise?" Bender eyed him with his arms crossed yet again. Fry couldn't help but notice that his tone was veering on the edges of suspicion and quiet, Bender-unique insecurity, striking Fry's heart with pangs of sympathy.

Fry considered for about a second on how he could sell someone that his mortality was okay just as he now did to himself, but instead, he rolled his eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the side of Bender's face in answer. He wrapped an arm around Bender and placed an unassuming hand on his shoulder, and pulled back to smile widely at him. " _Tch."_ Bender responded, though Fry's smile only turned wider when he felt a quiet. familiar hum emanating from Bender's body.

"I don't know why I put up with you humans." Bender said finally, shaking his head in disproval at himself for his own repeated and generous tolerance for his squishy and organic companions.

"Ah, don't be like that. You know you love us," Fry replied cheekily. That is, until he felt a familiar prod at the side of his ribs.

" _Ow!_ Bender!"

The room was quiet save for evil laughter.


End file.
